Time's Eddying Flight
by Karosai
Summary: Muraki x Hijiri, Hisoka x Hijiri, and others... Hijiri dies slowly in the arms of Muraki, becoming a shinigami with the belief that he loves him and wanted him to live, only to find the truth something far more devastating. Mental abuse, angst, gore,
1. Loved One

In order to understand it, there'd have to be a love so consuming in someone's life that it'd become a possessive impulse, something that could not be denied or ignored.  That's what it was, that feeling that if they died before that person betrayed them, then they could be together without that pure image tainted.  That was what Hijiri thought, hoped was racing through Muraki's mind.  No, not exactly that, because Hijiri had always been pure-hearted, so thoughts of possession and obsession even in someone else weren't likely to come…then again, he had known the thoughts of a demon as he bled in an alter.

A low groan, a murmured name, and a soft cry of pain as the blood dripped from his chest.  That's what it felt like to be ripped apart.  Something like screaming but without a single sound, it was strange.  He could feel the shivers coursing down his spine, the salted sweat on his face dripping down as the same man that had severely misguided him slowly tortured him.  It was something like love, but not at all, because love was supposed to be pure, taintless, without lust.  When that tongue trailed along his chest, coating his nipple with his own blood, Hijiri understood that it wasn't the same at all.  Somewhere along the way, he'd been lost into believing a lie, though no liar was present.

"I've always wanted to know…what it'd be like if someone hurt me like this.  Living vicariously is good enough, isn't it?" a low murmur behind glasses whispered, the tongue moving towards the other's lips instead.

"What…do you mean, sensei?" was all the boy could get out between horrified gasps, his chest aching, and his mouth ill, his eyes jaded.

Only a laugh was formed as a response, no words passing those pale lips.  Such a ghost like complexion, Hijiri wondered, how did it exist in such a bright world?  He knew that somewhere along the way, the angel appearance of the other had been torn apart.  He'd loved the way that man would let his fingers linger through his hair, or the way that he'd press a soft, almost chaste kiss against his lips whenever they met.  It was the world of a doctor and a patient ever since that day, and it'd almost been too comforting.

Muraki, Hijiri remembered, had been the one that replaced his old eye doctor, and he even cared for Hijiri's wrist so attentively when the boy had been beaten until his wrist snapped.  Those problems of jealousy from anyone never really went away.  Someone always wanted to be like him, and so he knew what the doctor meant.  To live vicariously…to watch Hijiri in order to become him, that was what so many of the people in his life had done.  Even the people he considered the closest…and then that feeling of isolation and complete abandonment came to him.  The world was getting darker, and something about being there seemed less appealing.

"You're so beautiful…stained in red," Muraki said with a faint chuckle, the smirk on his lips even visible in the faint lighting produced by the moon through the curtains.  It had never looked so white, and yet all Hijiri could see was the blood dripping across his view.  "Why don't you scream for help?"

Hijiri didn't answer, and then slowly the words came to him.  "There's no one that would come," he replied lowly, his eyes dripping with tears as he spoke.  It came to be so tearing, tormenting, ruining to admit that simple fact he had never believed before until the term vicarious came through to him.  Then everything seemed different, and he'd almost wished he'd die right then in the arms of the last person he had ever trusted.  Maybe, he thought, just maybe it was for his own benefit that Muraki drove so much pain into him, through him, raping him and then slowly letting his blood, his life, leave him in a pool of warmth.  All of that just to let it drain away.

"Do you hate me, Hijiri?" the doctor asked, taking the boy's lips to his own again, biting his bottom one until a faint trail of blood fell.

Tears clung to his cheeks, dripping down his face.  Hesitantly, but without any doubt, Hijiri's arms connected with the back of the man's head, pulling the other closely against him as he cried against him.  He felt comforted.  If only for that moment, there was comfort.  That was all he could have ever hoped.  Maybe it was love, or something like it, that drove the other to allow him death.

"I only hate myself for my thoughts," Hijiri cried out, his delicate wrists feeling through Muraki's hair, his chest aching in torment, from the bleeding.

That smirk never faded, and had the violinist been in any other state of mind, he might have been afraid.  He'd trusted the other, and he'd trust him even as he fell to his death, dripping away.  He couldn't hate him, no matter what it was.  Some veil did fall, and all else was lost.  How many times had the man done this before?  It wasn't a thought of Hijiri's, but it was a thought.

"If that's true, then let us meet again.  I want to have your body once more, to see how far I can go to make it bleed before you hate me.  It's too bad…that you'll die before we can find out this time."

He would never deny the doctor of what he wished, that pure trust he had always relied on.  He was scared, but he would do as was asked of him…even if it hurt.  Somehow, along the way, he would meet the doctor again, and then…there would be more pain, another death, until the end of time.  That was all he thought, at least, and further than that, just another moment of confusion and hesitation.  He'd never doubt the man, even if he bled to death.

That was what it felt like to die in the arms of that loved one.


	2. Shoulders

The thoughts, the knowledge, all of it seemed to have passed.  It hurt to die, something unknowable to the living.  It wasn't easy at all.  The whole time there was nothing that he wanted more than to live on for another day, to hold on to his murderer as the black cloth was placed over his head to hide his forlorn expression.  He wondered if Muraki would be caught, that beloved doctor of his, but in the end, he hadn't the time to know.

He had become a shinigami like the rest of them.  The first person he'd met was Hisoka, whom stared into his eyes with a level of surprise that Hijiri had never known could appear on that other's face.  He knew it had been on his before, but then, he was also a little bit more broken than he had been before, so maybe that look wouldn't form on his face anymore.  Simply, he didn't know.  With that, he felt elated.  Life wasn't so simply cut, as it had been when he was in school.  There weren't the rich students and the poor, and he didn't fight for those that lived through him anymore or against those that hated him for fighting.

"Why?" was all Hisoka had asked him.

Hijiri just smiled like he used to, holding the violin he'd somehow possessed tightly to his chest.  He also laughed, or at least it seemed like he did.  No response came at first, for he wasn't sure if the truth or a lie would be better.  He didn't know much about that boy that shared his face, but even so…he was curious.

"The reason…isn't something that can be shared so easily, I don't think.  No…that's not right.  The reason is…the person I love killed me…and…that person told me to meet with them again so that again I could die…  I want to know why, and so…I'm here.  Is it strange?"

"It's masochistic, but not so strange," the other boy replied, careful not to touch Hijiri when he saw the way the boy smiled.  He didn't want those feelings coursing through him.

That was fine with him, but he still wished he knew what type of person he was.  He didn't even know if he was a happy or lonely person anymore, but he was well aware of his betrayal.  He knew, at least, that if nothing else, he had been at fault for convincing himself of something such as requited love with a man such as that.  Why would it have ever been true?  It didn't add up…at any level.

He felt like he was falling, and along the way he heard the cracking sound of wood shattering against the ground.  Everything went dark again.

"Hijiri?" a voice called him.

The first thing he noticed was the cold, metal feeling against his back.  Then the blinding lights came next, erasing his every thought.  Where he was didn't really matter to him, he just wanted to see again.  He'd gone through so much to see.  He died to see.  He was a little afraid to do it again.

Vision clearing, the violinist could make out two figures.  After a moment more, he knew it was Watari and Hisoka.  The former placed a cool washcloth on his forehead, brushing through his messy hair as he went along, smiling warmly at him.  He knew that smile had appeared on another face before, and he was starting to realize that the reason for it had been something he hadn't expected.  It was the look of someone gaining a new test subject, and that scared him into pulling away.

"Thank you, Watari," he told the other, that smile on his lips as he forced himself to stand, only to stumble forward and land on his knees.  His arms wrapped around his chest, tears falling from his eyes, and all he could do was stare idly at the doctor and the boy.  He hadn't meant to do that.

"Hijiri…  Hisoka, please get him.  He doesn't seem to be comfortable with me," he said calmly, adjusting his glasses as 03 landed on his shoulder.

Hesitant at first, Hisoka gradually moved to kneel down beside Hijiri.  He didn't want to, not while the other was crying like tomorrow would come and ruin him.  He was too scared that he'd cry too, and so…so he didn't want to no matter what it took to resist.  Even so, when he watched the way Hijiri's lips trembled as though he had no recollection of where he was, Hisoka gave in, wrapping his arm around Hijiri's shoulder and feeling similar tears sting his eyes.

Choking on the tears, all Hisoka could manage to say was, "Watari, make him stop…"

When Hijiri leaned against him, held him, cried against him, Hisoka was left in a state of complete confusion, lost and sickened by the other's simple motions of reliance.  It was probably because they had the same eyes that Hijiri so easily relaxed against Hisoka like that.  Or at least, it was something like that, anyway.

"Hijiri…stop it…please…" Hisoka requested again, though this time his voice was weaker, his arms trembling as he leaned in closely to the other with tears staining his face.  "Stop it…"

He rested his head against Hijiri's shoulder, mocking the other's actions as he held him just as tightly, shivered just as much.  Times like that, Hisoka wished he'd never had such empathy.  Times like that, he wondered how a previously content and mild-mannered boy could cry as though his soul was being ripped out of him, shredded into pieces.

"I…can't stop…" was all he managed to say, but Hisoka had already understood that.  "Sorry…"

They stayed like that, crying with Watari watching over them with an aged expression on his face until he finally knelt down beside both boys, pulling his arms around them whether or not it was what they wanted.  He rested his head on the tops of theirs, and they rested their heads on their counterparts' shoulder, sitting silently in contentment as their bodies shivered.

"It…wasn't your time to die again, was it, Hijiri?" Watari asked softly in the boys' ears, not caring which one answered or if they'd answer.

Neither answered anything other than their faint sobs.

Karo Notes:

It's the funniest thing in the world…  Suddenly when my IB computer sciences exam comes up, I feel like writing a fan fic (which I'm banned from doing by many sources x.x)  Haha, don't tell anyone ;  Wish me luck on my exams x.x;

Silverone – Aww, need the Muraki x Hijiri to get to the HiHi 3  I like Hisoka and Hijiri a lot ..; I'll probably mess up their characters so much that it might as well be OOC in the end though XD  I haven't watched or read yami matsu stuff for about…hmm…when did volume 11 come out?  A year ago? X.x;  A long time, anyway XD


	3. Words

His stomach ached, and he almost felt sick.  He still didn't understand it…any of it.  He couldn't understand why it had happened, the feelings of insecurity.  They still lingered within him.  When he caught sight of Hijiri sleeping silently beside him with those salted tracks along his cheeks, Hisoka was at a loss for words.  He knew the other's emotions must still be inside him, and each one horrified him more than the previous.

Seeing the way Hijiri's wrist slowly reached up to hold onto his, Hisoka felt a faint blush fall across his cheeks while he leaned in against Hijiri, wrapping his arms around the other despite everything his mind told him to do.  He liked to argue with himself every now and then, and since his mind told him that it was best to pull away, he listened to the part of his body that found comfort in the warm skin.  Physical needs always preceded mental desires.

It took a moment longer to realize it, but he could feel Watari's arms wrapping around both of their bodies, his discomfort immediately rising.  Somehow, Hijiri had ended up in the middle of both their affections, held tightly through the night as the boy had cried, leaving both Hisoka and Watari silent aside from the tears they too couldn't control.  Something had changed about the area around the young boy.  Not long ago…everything about him had made even Tsuzuki at the brink of insanity smile.  Back then, he'd been jealous of the way Tsuzuki had tried to kill Hijiri, only to kill Hisoka instead.  He'd been jealous of the way Tsuzuki would have touched Hijiri's body, held him close, ripped him apart slowly, but then Hisoka remembered how scared he was too.  If it hadn't been that demon…then maybe his thoughts would have been a little different.

"That's a disgusting thought," Hisoka said to himself, not expecting to have roused Hijiri from his sleep, finding himself immediately lost when those sad eyes looked up at him.

He hadn't known that he'd be so seduced by sadness.  He was afraid of the type of person he was.  It fit Hijiri, to look sad.  The problem was, he didn't know why.

"Everything in my life…has been a lie…" he heard Hijiri whisper softly, smiling in the manner of a servant taking a beating, only smiling out of duty.

Hijiri stood, brushing his fingers through his hair in confusion.  He didn't know how he'd gotten there, but he knew that it hurt, and he knew that he wasn't completely interested in the neck cramp he had gotten from the metal bed.  He liked the warmth, though, since it seemed comforting.  Maybe it was just there, and that made it nice.

"…Oh…I almost forgot that the truth is perception," Hijiri added, sitting up from where he lied between the two.  "Thank you…for tolerating me, Hisoka.  I don't know what's wrong with me lately…  I'll get another violin, though, since I broke the last one when I fell…and then I'll play something beautiful.  That'll make me better.  I feel like something's watching me, using me…and so I want to make that not true."

Hisoka didn't say anything, but rather was elated to realize that his arms and legs belonged to him alone.  It had scared him to be under the control of Hijiri, even when the other had been sleeping.  It was still the thought of weakness, the lack of power, and it left him petrified.  Empathy made him weak, as weak as those around him.  He was starting to wonder if Hijiri was the weakest.

"Hijiri…what do you plan to do while you're here?" Watari slowly asked, watching Hijiri with attentive eyes.

"It seems…you and I have been partnered up…and then…I'm sharing a room with Hisoka…because they're worried about be staying alone."

Hisoka couldn't help but feel his illness increase.  Just the words made him sick with emotion.

Free Talk!

I got really lazy this chapter ;  Haha, it's so short…does it even count as one?  My brain hurts a bit, so I just stopped…  So I'm sorry in advanced.  Hmm, oh yes, about it being like TB…I guess I can see that if you think of Hisoka and Hijiri as twins and Muraki or Watari as the psycho best friend?  I don't know o.o;  Subi and Hotoko having an incestuous relationship sounds a bit disturbing o.o;  Especially since she wanted to marry her brother off to Sei-chan XD  Thoooough, Matsushita-sensei does often talk about how much she loves CLAMP and often models her characters after CLAMP characters, so maybe the coincidence lies in her?  I haven't read TB in over a year too x.x;  Aww, nostalgia…  Well, I promise the chapter tomorrow will be much better (I hope XD)


End file.
